


Let The Apple Fall Far From The Trees

by Sketchyfletch



Category: Kirkwall AU
Genre: Gen, Past Abuse, mother daughter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-30
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 11:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/823755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sketchyfletch/pseuds/Sketchyfletch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the modern Kirkwall AU, Siali Tathvathar is a detective with the Kirkwall PD. She's good at piecing clues together and interrogating suspects, but she's not the most approachable of people usually and the reasons why lie with her family - and in particular, her mother, a patient at the Andraste's Mercy Secure Psychiatric Unit. Siali is my OC.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Exceptions aren't made if visitors are members of the police force. Siali hands over her gun, walks through the scanner and lets herself be patted down before she's shown through to the waiting area. The walls are grey, the tables are grey and bolted to the floor, the chairs are a violent shade of orange that almost hurts to look at and makes Siali irrationally angry. Not that she was entirely laid back before she walked in. She takes a seat and waits with her hands folded on the table in front of her. She doesn't try to make conversation with the other visitors. Some of the mothers talk amongst themselves, exchanging details of their family lives and pointedly never mentioning what their daughters are doing in here. There's a burst of laughter at one point that hurts Siali's ears. She hates this point, before the buzzer sounds and the patients are shown in. 

Times stretches out, but at last the door opens and everyone is marched in, single file. Some are grubbier than others. Some are hollow-eyed, twitching, their reasons for being in here very clear. Others swagger in, clearly at ease in their environment. A tall, copper-haired elven woman glides through, bearing almost regal, and takes a seat opposite Siali, leaning forwards to kiss her cheeks. 

“Hello, darling. How are you doing?”

Aurelie Tathvathar doesn't look like she belongs here. She wears her baggy white tunic and jeans as though they're high fashion, and smiles easily, the expression only slightly crinkling the corners of warm, brown eyes. Her fingernails are long and obviously well cared for, and she relaxes on the uncomfortable seat in a manner better suited to reclining on a chaise-lounge. 

Siali accepts the kisses and sits back, wriggling a little to find a way of sitting comfortably. She doesn't succeed. “Well enough. Work's been busy.”

“Clearly it's been busy enough that you've felt the need to drop words out of your sentences altogether.” Siali knows her mother says this with intended affection, but it still sends a worm of shame down that pricks at a gawky teenager who was very aware of how everybody worshipped her mother and barely registered her. Her brows draw together, just slightly, as her mother sniffs at her. “I thought you'd given up.”

“I needed one.”

“Is it so stressful coming to see me that you need to suck down cancer?” Aurelie shakes her head. “What a sad thing is it. Your visits cheer me, you know. How is the dear Rachel?” 

“Happy. I think. She's met somebody.” Siali's shoulders are rigid and her tone is stiff. “We still meet up for lunch, sometimes.”

Aurelie's brow creases with beautiful noble sorrow that makes Siali want to slap her. “She was so lovely. It's such a shame that you let her slip through your fingers.”

“Yeah, well. How was I supposed to know what a functional relationship looks like?” She instantly feels guilty as her mother's eyes widen with hurt. “Sorry. Didn't mean to snap.” 

“That's not fair. Your father and I did the best we could, you know. You've got a good job and you're a good person, isn't what matters?”

The teenager wants to burst out with the whole list of ways Siali's beautiful, damaged mother damaged her too, and the adult clamps down on the impulse. “S'pose.”

“And you're down to abbreviated single words. Have you been having a bad week, darling? It can't just be me.”

Siali presses her fingertips into her forehead. “Yeah. Sorry. Big murder case. It's a headache.”

“You poor girl.” Aurelie smoothes her hand over her daughter's hair, and Siali slumps a little. “When is the last time you took a day off?”

The conversation eases towards normal and Siali seizes the thread of it quickly. “I've got one coming up.”

“What are you planning to do with the time?”

“I thought I'd go to the art gallery. There's an interesting photography exhibition on at the moment.” Siali doesn't go into detail about why she's so interested in paying another visit to the gallery, and Aurelie doesn't question her further.

“That sounds relaxing. It'll do you good.” Aurelie steeples her fingers. “Have you talked to your father recently?”

Siali shakes her head. “He's not been back in Kirkwall for a while. I got a postcard from Antiva a while back. He seems to be enjoying himself.” Then, because she can't help herself - “not that I could talk to him if he was here.”

Aurelie is cool. “There's no need for that, young lady.” She taps her fingernails against the table. “Your father could have avoided it. He chose to keep flying into rages and scaring me. What was I supposed to do with a young daughter in the house?” The clicking noise is annoying Siali. “I was just trying to make sure he never raised his hand or voice to you again.”

“Well, you did that.” Memories that Siali prefers not to dwell on prod at her. She keeps her face blank.

“He should have died.” Aurelie has been unapologetic about this from the start. “It would have been better for you, I think. Instead he still guilts you into seeing him.” 

“He doesn't guilt me. I go to talk to him of my own accord.”

“Oh? Do you speak to him like you speak to me? That must get quiet.” The minute twist at the corner of Aurelie's mouth enrages Siali and she clenches her fists on the tabletop, trying to get a grip on herself. Her mother pokes her. “Honestly, you get upset so easily. You really do take after him.”

“SHUT UP!” 

Siali's voice rings off the walls and sets several of the other patients to twitching. One of the nurses storms over, looking furious, and hisses a rebuke that Siali barely hears. Aurelie doesn't bat an eyelash, and simply waits until the woman is gone and the conversations around them have resumed. She lays a hand over Siali's fist. “I went too far, didn't I?”

Siali doesn't trust herself to look at her mother's face. “I'm not like him.”

“Darling, your temper is his temper. You're much better at keeping it under control than he ever was.” She raises a hand. “My temper is fine, before you say anything. What I did was a measured response to a threat against my daughter.”

Siali still doesn't look up. “You stabbed him in the neck.” 

“He'd hit me several times by then, you know that. I lived with it because I loved him.” Her fingers feel cool as she presses them against Siali's cheek. “But I love you more. The moment he hit you, I knew that he wouldn't hold back from you anymore. I had to stop him.”

And Aurelie had ended up here, and Siali's father had got custody of her anyway once he'd recovered enough from the wound to live a normal life. Millimetres to one side and the knife would have gone through his jugular, ending him. He'd lived, but he couldn't speak anymore. He did seem to have learned a lesson, though. He never so much as threatened Siali again. 

Siali meets her mother's eyes. Aurelie looks sad. “I wish we had been able to give you a better life, darling. If I could have left Calanon early on and found a good man to be your father, I would have done it. But I just loved him too much.” 

“Yeah. Well. I'm coping all right.”

“I wish you were happy, though. You were so happy with Rachel.”

“Yes. So happy that she broke up with me.”

“Sarcasm is an inferior substitute for wit, Siali. And you were happy with her, I just don't think you knew how to deal with that. So you neglected her until she rejected you, just like you were expecting.”

“Stop pyschoanalysing me.”

“I'll stop when you sort out a few of your issues.” Aurelie sits back. “I'll be proud of you if you come in to see me next time not smelling of cigarettes.”

“I only had one.” 

“And last time you were here you promised you wouldn't touch them again. Please don't lie to me next time.” 

Siali stands. “I'll try. And on that note I should leave. There's a desk full of red tape for me to untangle.” 

Aurelie rises too, completely gracefully. “I don't care whether that's an excuse or not. I'm just glad you still come to see me.” The worm of guilt burrows deeper in Siali's chest as her mother kisses her cheek again. “You don't have to, you know.”

“I know.”

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too.” Because Maker help her, she does. She can't help loving her mother any more than she can help resenting her for her illness or selfishness or whatever it is, or the guilt that follows resentment. Siali leaves the waiting room, gathers her things, and strides out to the gates, digging out a squashed carton of cigarettes from her bag. She's not a smoker usually and one pack can last her a long time. But before and after seeing her mother, she needs it. She draws in a long, soothing puff of nicotine and tar, and her shoulders finally untense as she exhales. When she has smoked it down to a stub just short of burning her fingers, she grinds it out on top of the nearest bin and heads down the street. 

One month until the next time she visits. It will seem like forever and come far too soon.


	2. Break Me, Shake Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siali's latest visit with her mother is even more disastrous than usual.

Aurelie sniffs at her and looks approving for once. “I don’t smell smoke on you.”

“Decided not to.” And does she ever regret it. One steadying cigarette would have helped, she’s fairly certain of it. But as these visits only ever go badly anyway, not indulging would spare her at least one of the standard sharp comments. Instead, there’s something else to engage Aurelie’s attention.

“It’s not been a month. Did you decide you missed your mother, Siali?”

Siali is stock still, her expression bland. She gives her mother nothing more than her words. “I needed to talk to you about something.”

Aurelie’s mouth curves upwards. “Ah, I see. I cannot remember the last time you came to me for advice. This is more akin to what mothers and daughters normally do.” She lays her hands one over the other neatly on the table in front of her. “Well, then. Talk.”

Siali chews over the words for a few moments. “At the trial, you mentioned that you heard voices.”

Aurelie still looks amused, although there is a flatness to her gaze with which Siali is very familiar. “I did. That is why I am here, after all, and not wearing one of those terrible orange jumpsuits in the regular prison.” The smile drops away. “And it has been over a decade. Why are you questioning me about this now?”

“I need to know for a case. It’ll help to get the perspective of somebody who has actually experienced it.”

Siali doesn’t like the canny look her mother is giving her. “Very well. Ask your questions.”

“When did you first start hearing voices?”

“Oh, when I was very young, my dear. And they were almost never louder than whispers. More often than not I didn’t hear them at all, except when I was stressed about something.”

Siali tries not to think of five days ago, when email after email had poured in and the phone had rung off the hook and there was a teetering pile of paperwork to deal with on her desk and voices had gathered, indistinguishable enough to be incomprehensible, loud enough to be severely annoying. And she had done and said nothing about it, as she had been alone in the office. There had been no reason for hearing anything other than the phone ringing. Instead she nods.

“You said they were almost never louder.”

“Indeed. Once or twice I heard shouts. The second time, I stabbed your father.” She shrugged. “The voice demanded that I gain retribution for his assault on you. It was in tune with my own thoughts, so there seemed no good reason not to do it.”

Siali bit her lip against the bitter response and moved on. “How did you deal with the whispers, the other times?”

“I just ignored them. As I said, I grew up with it. Once I learned that other people didn’t have the same, I only talked of it to my therapist. He claimed I was just disassociating from my own thoughts, trying to make something external responsible for my actions. Perhaps he was right. I do not much care.” She leans forward. “Tell me about this case you’re working on, then.”

“Confidential information. I can’t talk about the details.”

“Well, now. Isn’t that interesting. I feel sorry for the person who may have the same problem as myself. I am capable of controlling my reactions to the background noise. Somebody else might be...somewhat on edge.” Aurelie’s gaze does not shift from Siali’s. “Somebody who has a history of a short temper and is already under a great deal of stress could well buckle.” 

_Don’t rise to the bait._ “We don’t know the full medical history yet. We’re waiting on reports. I just thought it would be useful to get a – an insider’s perspective on the topic.”

“How very astute of you.” Aurelie’s eyes glint like a snake’s. “And how strange. There are perhaps thousands of books you could consult on the subject before talking to me, hundreds of therapists. You are not fooling me.” She wags a finger in Siali’s face. “Your poker face is excellent, my girl, but I have known you all your life.”

Siali knows that her silence goes on a beat too long for her to claim ignorance, so she waits. Aurelie looks satisfied.

“So. My little girl hears voices too. This must be embarrassing for the woman who rose from a broken home and joined the force to stop people like me from running around stabbing their spouses.” 

“There was more to it than that.” Speaking was a mistake and she knows it instantly from the triumphant gleam in Aurelie’s eyes. “I wanted to help make things better.”

“My precious little girl. So idealistic – or so angry, and wanting to take it out on people legally. Being a detective must give you license to crack a lot of heads together when you’re feeling a bit cross, hm? I imagine you’re cross a lot of the time. All those criminals, slipping away. Letting Rachel slip away. Not having many friends, thanks to that attitude of yours. It must get very wearing.”

Siali draws in a long breath. “I have enough control not to let it affect my actions.”

“Ah, but do you?” Aurelie rests her chin on her linked fingers. “I don’t deny you have a good hold on your temper. It’s short, and it’s easy to see how easily you’re irritated by small things. You don’t let it push you into acting irrationally, most of the time. But. now you hear voices? That might throw you off a bit. I can tell you’re scared. Who knows when you might get a shout, just as you’re trying to rein yourself in, and lose your grip? You may well end up doing just what I did. Maybe even to somebody you care about.”

Ice crawls through Siali’s lungs, freezing her breath, slowing her mind down so she contemplates that prospect in horrific slow motion. She has to fight to keep her face straight. “No. I won’t.”

“You will. It’s just a matter of time. One day you’ll be having an argument with somebody and wish you could shut them up, no matter how much they might mean to you. Then the voices will tell you it’s absolutely fine to feel the way you do, that in fact, you should act on that feeling. And before you know it you’ll be looking down at them, wondering why their blood is all over you before you realize the truth.”

_Breathe. Breathe._ “Why are you saying this?”

Aurelie pats her hand. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, darling. From yourself. If you let yourself get too close to people they will cause you pain. And you may well hurt them back. You’ve worked so hard, my girl. It is better to be alone than to risk hurting somebody you love.”

The ice is breaking apart, splintering into shards that pierce Siali’s heart. She stands, focusing on her mother’s face, not the horrifying prospect of the few people she does like lying at her feet, drained of life. “Then I’ll go, and spare you the risk of doing that yourself.”

“I never mean to hurt you, Siali. It’s just my way. It’s our way.”

“I’m not coming again.” 

Something flashes in her mother’s eyes, something Siali never expected to see – a moment of anguish, before it is quickly buried. “See how casually you can do it. Just be careful, darling.”

Siali doesn’t say anything. She turns, collects her gun and other belongings from security, and leaves the building. Whispers cluster in her head like gorse, clumps of edges made sharper by the images her mother has left her with. She picks up speed, trying to outpace her thoughts, and turns into the nearest likely-looking doorway, sheltering herself from the wind. She fumbles out a packet of cigarettes and a lighter, but her hands tremble and she drops the packet on the soaked ground. Swearing, she crushes it with her boot heel, then grinds it hard into the pavement before her mother’s face flashes before her eyes and she stops.

Across the street, a dimly-lit bar beckons. The drink will be rotgut and the clientele reclusive. Perfect. Siali walks in and orders two double whiskeys, slamming one back before taking one over to the quietest corner of the bar. She slips into her seat and checks her phone.

There are no missed calls. She doesn’t know who she can speak to anyway. She turns off the phone and looks down into her drink, her shoulders slumping, her eyes dry and burning.


End file.
